The Wheel of Fortune
by Dr. Yellow Drink
Summary: Two farmers on the off-section of Kanto Route 10 discover an unusual creature during a harvest, and struggle to figure out how to handle it.


SHLICK!

Tarred clouds overlooked a cascade of rainfall, nary a feathery color in the mix. The raindrops, however, paled in comparison to the jagged threshing of rice-grains, and the haphazardly-bundled "piles" of wet clothing. A matte of black hair rested beneath a slick, waterless hat; a child-sized backpack jumbled with a hodgepodge of grains, the occasional stalk among them. Bordering this end of the farm lied a waist-high birch fence, cut sharply at the top ends. Beyond there, a muddy dirt road, and the equal fence of another's farm.

Once he reached this point, the man ceased his picking at the field's corner, holding grain in one cherry-red palm and stalks in another. Both were quickly stashed away. A shoe tapped in the water; the beginnings of an impure joke were lost in the climate and anger. Between the farmer and the wall lied nothing casionally, a weed to pull and leave for the soil to consume. Beyond that, the man thought nothing, drawing nothing.

Throughout the endeavor, the farmhand stood at an arch to regain his footing, before eventually standing straight. There was no rice left on the paddy; just water and soil. No more crops to pick or separate. The area would've resembled silent earth if not for the rain.

Well, that, and a distant call from behind:

"Al!" The matching green eyes of one farmer met another's, and There were noticeable differences between the two, besides attitude. The speaker had been taller, of leaner build, and carried thr agitated cheeks of a Pikachu. As Al shook out some excess water, the taller farmer spoke as if unrecognized: "Hey, Al!" A second later, a smirk formed: "Alcides!"

This, however, prompted a harsh reaction from Al: "Ben, how many damn times do I have to ask you to stop calling me that?"

At this point, Ben already reached his fellow man. Ben, cricking his neck left and right, gave a sharp answer: "Iunno. Many times as you swear?" IInitially, Alcides rose his hand, about ready to leave a third imprint, but ceased. Rice in the rain was not a favorite activity. Alcides, instead, grunted wistfully: "What's going on?"

Question met question in a brief conversation: "You're done?"

"Yes."

A smirk. "Good!" Alcides's growing sense of annoyance was quickly answered: "Dinner's almost ready, Al. Come on!"

Alcides adjusted his cap, wringing out water. Ben formed an L with his right arm, almost gripping Al untill the man declared: "Tell Ma and Pa I'll be right there."

"Not with that attitude." The hook formed, and Ben replied: "I'll tell them with you, alright?" Pushing away the more annoying farmhand at first, searching for a method to worm out of annoyance, the man declared: "Hold on. Hear that?"

Unfortunately for Al, this didn't just get Ben to tilt his head away. The sound of water bubbling caught his ears. Water teded to splish and splosh and wash about in rain. Bubbling (hard enough to hear now), howevver, implied one of two things: an air pocket, or drowning. Reluctantly, Al lumbered over to the spot, removing no equipment. Like Remoraid to Mantine, Ben followed Al, knowing little of his intentions yet ready to take action.

It wasn't until the bubbling continued for ten seconds that Al shook his head. He rose a boot, ready to solidify the area. Initially, he pressed hard, as if checking for a hidden rock. Those were occasional; Alcides didn't live on this paddy forever. He started to reach down when, suddenly, the boot begun to fill with mud - more than typical of Alcides's job.

It wasn't long before a sixty-kilos man, carrying twelve kilos of rice, pirouetted through the air like a ballerina. Ben's reaction, at first a wide-eyed wonderment, soon became a hidden laughter after rice spilled from the bag's every orifice. Backside planted against stalks, water, and complete shock. Ben looked around, searching for prongs or indicators that a Ground-type breached into the farm. His scan found no such implements, however. He barely managed to ask: "Al, are you okay?"

Al held no reservations. Initially, he threw rice down into the bubbling spot. Tiny whirlpool formed around the area. Ben tried to console Alcides again, but before he could utter a word, Alcides dipped both of his arms into the sinkhole.

Upon feeling a ribbed object, Al uttered: "The hell?!" Ben shook his head in disapproval. Narrow eyes fixated on curling hands, centered around a hard mass. Hands rubbed against a round object, appearing as a beige smooth stone. More anomalous were the series of teal tendrils that crawled from the bottom of the stone, wrapping around all that found it. Ben made no movements, stepping back from Al's tentacle surprise.

Al was not so squeamish, and once he rested a sore leg, he rose the shell of this unusual creature. As it attempted to spit all manner of fluids for a hydraulic getaway - mud, water, a pale and salty grey liquid - Al struggled to hold it. But, upon realizing it had just one orifice, he formed the same L-shape with his arms as Ben, trapping the cephalopod in his arms.

"See?" Alcides said to a stunted Ben. As Alcides begun to smirk, Ben's expression became more or less neutral. Smile became more forced than not, as Ben asked: "You're alright, though?"

Al, wiping his face, held a quaking stomach. "Fine, shit." The irises of the beady-eyed attacker shrunk, though not in conjuction with a follow-up question from Al: "You think we can boil this, Ben?" Reference went unnoticed by the attacker.

Ben blinked. "I don't know, that thing spit mud everywhere. Doesn't look all that digestible-"

"There's meat all over this thing, Ben."

Ben squealed: "Do you even know what that is?"

"Do you?"

"No!"

"Sparing the creature that sent ment me spiraling. You're really too nice." Alcides snapped, Ben warily watching the tense man. "Well Ben," Alcides said, staring through Ben, "This little shit attacked me, and I say we give it no-" An adjustment of the arms, after a surprise burst of water, "no mercy!"

A shriek: "Al, stop! We have dinner-!"

"It's just a Pokemon, Ben! No mercy!" Alcides already started walking off with the attacker, then crawling into its shell, when Ben proposed a solution:

"Well, what if we find out it's worth a lot of money?" A suggestion that finally fell on Alcides's ears, and drove him to a watchful, but curious, look. "You know how much 'rare' ones can go for-"

"Then you say nothing about me swearing, and I'll bring this dumb thing for appraisal-" An escape attempt - an attempt to squeeze out of the spiraling carapace - would be thwarted by Alcides' elbow. What felt like a sharp beak, Alcides winced at, but proceeded to maneuver around. Ben looked down, muttering: "...can't bellieve this hypocrite."

"...what'd you say, Ben?"

A blink. "Hypocrite." The two look at one another tensely, and moved away from the corner. Not a voice followed them.


End file.
